Rupert Brooke was born today in 1887. He is most famous for the poem that begins:
No, wait. That was Joyce Kilmer. Brooke wrote the one that goes:
He died in 1915 of blood poisoning (probably from a mosquito bite) on a French hospital ship just off a lovely Greek island, and was quickly buried there. And so he missed Gallipoli. Later his mother had him dug up and reburied in a graver grave. But before all that there was an August third and a mother and a screaming baby Rupert.
I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree
No, wait. That was Joyce Kilmer. Brooke wrote the one that goes:
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England.
He died in 1915 of blood poisoning (probably from a mosquito bite) on a French hospital ship just off a lovely Greek island, and was quickly buried there. And so he missed Gallipoli. Later his mother had him dug up and reburied in a graver grave. But before all that there was an August third and a mother and a screaming baby Rupert.
This entry was posted by eeksypeeksy
on Tuesday, August 03, 2004 at 8:29 AM.
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